


Innocence Regained

by ETNMystic



Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Innocence, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: Eleven days. That's all the time that Clara and her younger sister Aria have to travel for this month. Or is there something else that one of them needs to do in 11 days?
Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726699
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Innocence Regained

**Author's Note:**

> This was a piece I wrote for Intro to Creative Writing Class. I'm sorry if it sucks. :/

Eleven days.

That’s all the time we have to travel for this month.

“Are we really taking an underwater train, Clara?” my younger sister yawns as we wait to grab our tickets for the Chunnel. 

I nod.

“Paris has always been one of my dream destinations.”

“And are we—?”

“Yes, we’ll go see the catacombs,” I sigh.

Aria’s obsessed with the paranormal and I promised her we’d take the tour if she worked hard at the Teahouse the month prior.

We get our tickets, and find our seats on the train. As we travel in the underwater tunnel, my heart races and I feel claustrophobic, but I try to keep poised for Aria’s sake as she sleeps on my lap.

* * *

Day 1:

We arrive in Paris at about 9 in the morning, taking a carriage from the station to the small hotel we reserve a three-day stay for. We’ve only been in our room for two minutes and Aria is already rushing and jumping around and listing off things she wants to see and do. 

“Let’s go climb the Eiffel Tower!” As I’m taking a snack out of my suitcase to eat.

“Ooh! We should ride a tandem bicycle!” As I’m folding the clothes into drawers.

“How about we watch a mime in a park?” As I’m setting up our toiletries.

Her constant enthusiasm is something I’ve always admired, and it makes me giggle. 

“Ari, at least wait until we’ve unpacked before you start listing off everything in Paris.”

She folds her arms and pouts cutely. 

“We can unpack things whenever. We can’t get Parisian ice cream in Bristol!”

I can’t argue that, but I push forward to finish up. 

Once I’m finished, Aria essentially pulls me along towards the park where the Eiffel Tower awaits.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a carriage?” I ask.

There’s no hesitation.

“Don’t be silly, Clarie! Anything’s within walking distance if you’ve got the stamina!”

I wish I had the stamina.

We arrive half an hour later, standing right in front of the towering triangle

“Race you to the top!”

“Aria, we can’t just—“

By that time, she’s barreling through people, causing a commotion. I shake my head, but smile. She hasn’t a care in the world, save for our well-being. 

“Wow!” she gasps as I finally make it up to the very top.

The view, unfortunately, isn’t as amazing to me. I suppose I expected something better. 

Once that’s all said and done, the two of us find a cafe to order sandwiches from before going sight-seeing. She takes in every single detail with wonder and curiosity. I find it rather dull. 

After a tandem bike ride and seeing a mime, the two of us have supper and see a show.

* * *

Day 2:

We have two days left in Paris. I had been hoping to do some sight-seeing, but Aria seems pre-occupied for most of the day. At supper, I ask her what had her so absorbed. Aria tells me there’s a magical faerie ring in the back of our inn.

“It took me to all of these amazing places, and I was even crowned faerie princess! Look!"

She pulls out a flower crown of roses.

“Where did you get these?” I ask.

“From the faerie queen, of course!”

She pleads with me to let her visit again. I call her back in at midnight.

* * *

Day 3:

I find that she’s awoken earlier and playing in that ring again. She refuses to eat breakfast, as she said that the “faeries” already made a feast in her honor. 

We have our catacombs tour that day, with Aria racing ahead of me with reckless abandon. It takes me far too long to find her: actually it takes security too long. But even she evades them too. I ask her how she had managed to find these secret passages.

“The Phantom told me!” she exclaims in a matter-of-fact tone.

We have supper and see a show. Aria’s exhausted when we return, but I awaken at midnight to hear her lyrical and magical giggling coming from the back.

* * *

Day 4:

I pack her things up and she insists on taking the trinkets the “faeries” gave her, little lily-bells and faerie dust. We take a carriage to a train station to the beach. We then walk, or skip in Aria’s case, to the house we rented nearby it. Not even in the house for a second and Aria practically leaps out to the beach. I look out to see her lying on the sand with her feet up. I don’t find this too surprising at first. Aria has trouble swimming, so she prefers to keep to the shoreline.

Days 5 and 6 are the same. She would go out to the beach, come back for lunch, go back down, come back for dinner, and then go back out until bedtime. Day 6 is when I ask.

“I’m talking to the white horses!”

She tells me all of the gifts they’ve given her, special seashells and things of that nature. I smile, endeared by her childlike innocence and wonder. 

* * *

Day 7:

We take a carriage to our next destination, a cabin nearby a forest. She keeps telling me of all of the magic that forests carry, but I simply humor her. I don’t wish to ruin her childhood. 

I stay back at the cabin while she goes and explores the forest. It begins to rain and she rushes in. Once I get her changed, I notice her crying.

“It’s the seashell necklace the mermaid queen gave me. It got caught on one of the branches.”

I hug her as I dry her off, noticing a magical scent in her hair.

“Aria, it’ll be alright, darling,” I soothe her.  
“I’m sure we can buy another one.”

She shakes her head defiantly.

“I’m supposed to protect it. If it gets taken by the gillywelders, their magic is gone!”

I keep trying to calm her, but to no avail. Finally I settle her into bed and kiss her good night.

* * *

Day 8:

I’m awoken to a loud knocking on the door. I throw on a gown and throw open the door. There are two bobbies standing there. They ask me if I know of a girl who’s staying in the cabin. The description matches Aria, and I begin to fear something’s wrong. I rush out to the forest, which has become chaotic. I head over to a long, wide bridge where they’re loading someone into a body bag, and my heart sinks. Just before they zip it up, I catch a look. Her lovely white nightgown, her short brown hair, clutching a seashell necklace to her hands and wearing a sad smile. Time slows down, and the noise is gone. I can feel my mouth open as I scream her name, but I hear nothing. I feel the tears fall down my face, but I can’t hear myself cry. I feel the bobby’s hands on my wrists, holding me back, but I don’t hear what they say. But they lead me away from her.

* * *

Days 9 and 10:

I get the coroner’s report, as well as a plausible cause. Aria must’ve gotten onto the bridge rail to retrieve the seashell necklace. She likely slipped and fell into the pond side, taking trauma to the back of her neck from a rock in the water. I don’t leave the house.

* * *

Day 11:

Our last day.

Or it should’ve been _our_ last day.

I decide I have to face it. I take a death march to the bridge and look over the railing. I have trouble associating this place with my sister. A place of death, of sadness, of misery.

“No, Clarie!” a familiar voice giggles.

“It’s a place of new beginnings, of wonder, of excitement.”

There she is, reflecting against the surface, in her white nightgown, the seashell necklace on her neck.

“You weren’t scared?” I ask her.

“Well, I was at first, but there was a nice spirit who told me that death is simply another chance for you to create a story. Too many people fear beginning _that_ story, but they don’t know that anything is possible in death.”

On her shoulders are tiny little people with wings and a glittering flower crown on her head.

“What are those?”

“You haven’t forgotten about faeries, have you?” she asks sadly.

I look away, feeling ashamed for some reason.

“Clarie…..there was something else that spirit told me. We’re all born with a sort of magic inside of us: innocence. It’s not something that necessarily makes us oblivious of one world. It helps us see another, a magical one, one that you can see even in _your_ world. Seeing that world isn’t a weakness. As long as you see even a fraction of that world, life will be beautiful.”

I feel a small hand grab mine. I turn to see Aria. A small smile spreads across my face.

“I can walk you back to the cabin, Clarie.”

I nod happily. As we walk, she shows me things I thought weren’t there before. Pixies, strangely beautiful plants, lovely animals, faeries, even a few gnomes. I run and skip through the forest, laughing in a way I haven’t laughed in years. I almost feel as though I’m flying!

When I arrive at the cabin, Aria waits outside for me to finish packing. She makes sure I take the trinkets, and then hugs and kisses me goodbye, but only for now, she says. I turn to go, but I feel her tug on my dress. I turn back.

“Please,” she whispers.

“Keep visiting both worlds.”

I smile kindly and resolving to uphold this.

“I promise, Aria.”


End file.
